Author's Note:

Fun Fact: For every scene that is written and published, I have notes for at least two more that are happening in the background to try to keep arcs going.

Chapter Twenty-Six - Gelid

[adjective : very cold, icy]

8,760.

"Welcome home."

My fists were curled so tightly that I thought my nails might cut into my palms. I forced a breath, relaxing my hands. I stared around the room. "Thanks," I managed, unable to keep the flat tone from my voice.

"This was where Sai stayed," Danzo continued, putting a hand on my shoulder and guiding me forward. "I thought it would serve as an appropriate reminder for why you're here."

A chill went up my spine. Resisting a shudder was almost painful. Eying the metal bunk bed, I said, "Who else stays here?"

"Do not worry. He died honorably." He finally removed his hand. "The box has your things. Prepare, and then come. We will begin your training." He stepped out of the room.

I glanced back to stare at the doorway. Could it really be called a doorway if there was no actual door? I looked back around, searching for the box he'd mentioned. There wasn't much in the room at all. The stacked beds, one desk, and one chair. I frowned at dark area under the bed. I stepped forward and crouched down to get a better look. A wide, flat box took half the space under the frame. I dragged the box out, shuffling backwards as I went. The metal grated loudly as it moved.

Once I'd gotten it moved, I shifted to kneel in front of the box. The lid creaked as I pushed it open. Inside, it was organized into neat stacks of supplies. I selected a set of clothes—it all seemed to be the same identical, dark grey uniform with long sleeves, red shoulder straps, belted black pants, and regular shinobi sandals—and a single kunai pouch, which was already stocked with kunai and shuriken. With another glance at the entryway, I changed and stored my original clothing away in my fourth storage seal. It took me a moment to fit on the harness for the tanto. And then I picked up a mask and pair of gloves.

I got to my feet and shoved the box back under the bed with my foot. I hesitated with the mask. After a moment of indecision, I hooked it onto my belt. Tugging on the gloves—incorrectly at first, due to how it was fingerless only for the thumb and index finger—I stepped back out into the hallway. After glancing both ways, I headed the opposite direction from where Danzo had brought me in. I passed a few more doorless, concrete rooms. One of the openings was larger. I stopped and stepped through it into the large, open, concrete room.

My chest burned. As I struggled for a breath, I tried to remember what was so familiar about the way my muscles seized and I couldn't seem to move. And then I felt the phantom pain my stomach.

It wasn't quite as bad as Obito's killing intent. Obito's KI had come with a spinning sharingan and a blade and an acknowledgement of just how little my life was worth. No, this was awful and painful and made it difficult to get air, but I wasn't dying.

Danzo stood in the middle of the grand, concrete room. At his side stood a Root shinobi, his mask hooked onto their belt so that I could see his face. I didn't recognize him, even with as bright and distinctive as his orange hair was.

"Uzumaki," Danzo said, sweeping an arm out to gesture to where he wanted me to go. "We'll start with sparring for your taijutsu."

I moved forward to the indicated spot, the feeling of being suffocated still wrapped around my chest. The Root shinobi moved opposite of me, and I turned to face him. I bowed. He didn't. As I straightened, I glanced towards Danzo for elaboration on the spar's parameters. He didn't give any.

"Begin."

I hit the floor hard. I kicked out as my opponent followed me down to the ground, but he deflected my foot with his left arm. His right elbow dug into the inside of my other knee, pinning it down to the ground. I snapped my right leg back around, twisting harshly to the side. He ducked my knee, and an arm came around my throat. I tried to tuck my chin, but another hand gripped the top of my head and pulled. The arm found purchase around my neck.

And squeezed.

I gasped, clawing uselessly at the arm around my throat. When there was no softening, no relent on the pressure, I started tapping frantically. Black spots started to stain my vision. I tried to make a sound, but all I managed was a pale croak. The little I could see of the world was beginning to swim. And my arms were just so heavy.

"Enough, Yamanaka."

The pressure was gone. On my hands and knees, I choked out a desperate gasp for air, so sudden and sharp that my lungs ached. My arms trembled, struggling to support my weight.

"On your feet."

I looked up, vision swaying as I focused in on Danzo. I gave a nod and stumbled upward, leaning heavily first to one side and then to the other.

"Again."

I hit the ground.

8,740.

I stared at the numbers for a moment and then tapped them, switching the ink back into a circle. Sighing, I rolled onto my side and tucked my wrist in close to my chest. I'm dying.

You're being dramatic.

He's trying to kill me.

You wouldn't be useful dead.

I huffed a laugh at that. When I shifted, I could feel my cuts pulling. That got a swear from me. My chest protested as I took in a deep breath and returned to my back. I closed my eyes.

"Can't sleep?"

I looked up. "I need to."

"That's not what I asked."

"Yeah, I know." I stepped through the bars, wincing. How was it possible that I was feeling sore even here in my mindscape? I leaned into him, sliding my hand into his fur and sighing heavily. "Twenty hours down, right?" I sank to the floor. "Talk to me."

"You lost all your fights today."

Another laugh. "You're always so good at cheering me up. Alright, then. In that case, correct me."

"He was faster than you. Stronger. More skilled. More experienced. You didn't stand a chance."

"Delightful."

"It will take time for you to achieve a draw, let alone a success. Focus on his weaknesses. Protect your throat. Eventually, you're learn how to go for his." He paused. "Kit."

I froze, listening to the cold on my senses. "I hear it," I murmured. I closed my eyes.

I sat up, zeroing in on the figure in the doorway. "What?"

"Attend," the figure directed. Then they turned and left.

With a tired rasp, I dragged myself up and climbed down the ladder. After putting on my uniform, I fumbled for a second with my mask. Then I paced out in to the hallway, hesitated for just a moment, and then went to stand in the entryway to the training hall.

Danzo motioned me forward. "Stand," he ordered.

I stepped up and stood where he'd direction. When he motioned to me, I turned and found myself facing a target at the end of the room.

Danzo lifted his chin. "Begin."

8,668.

I was drowning. Everything was so cold, and I was drowning.

Breathe.

I lunged for the surface, struggling upwards against the weight around my limbs. My fingertips stung as they hit air. I strained to the side until my knuckles hit harshly against stone. I scrabbled for purchase, digging in. Then I hauled myself upward.

Air had never tasted so good.

I fell heavily against the side as I dragged myself out. I heaved up bile and water, throat burning.

"Have you made progress?"

I looked up. Danzo stood before me, leaning into his cane and considering me. At the lack of response—beyond me heaving again—he used his cane to tap against the box of leaves between us. "If you think you're ready, go ahead. If not, the water will still be there for you."

8,585.

It was when the Yamanaka pinned me down with his tanto through my foot that Danzo finally called the fight. I fumbled with my own blade until I dropped it, falling to one knee. The Yamanaka yanked his sword out, stepping back. A gasp ripped itself from my chest. I scrambled to put pressure on the wound.

A box dropped in front of me. "Fix yourself up," Danzo ordered from off to the side somewhere. It was hard to tell exactly where; my ears were ringing too badly. "We have more training to attend to."

I stared at the bandages and ointments and tape piled in the box. What the hell am I supposed to do with that? When I shifted, my knee slipped in the blood beneath me. I was starting to get light headed. I can barely move.

Let me take care of it?

I moved again. More blood spurted. The other cuts from the fight stung in the air. I knew Danzo was waiting.

Please.

Kurama's chakra flooded my system. I couldn't withhold a ragged, choked-off scream, and I clamped a hand down over my mouth as my skin burned. When the lava finally drained from my veins, it left behind pure exhaustion. I stumbled upward, struggling to find steady footing in the blood. When I finally did, I found and held his stare. "What now?"

He tilted his head, considering me. Then he nodded. "Yamanaka is going to help you practice stealth. In reductive terms, the longer you manage to stay hidden, the better the situation will be for you." He nodded, and the Yamanaka adjusted his grip on his tanto. Danzo then looked back at me. "You have fifteen seconds before he begins."

8,523.

I was coughing on blood and loose teeth when Danzo called the Yamanaka back. "Enough. You've done well. Leave and prepare for your mission."

Without a word, the Yamanaka vanished. I pushed myself up on shaky arms and spat out a baby tooth. Then I looked up at him. "Sending my training partner away?"

Danzo looked at from me to the entryway. "On your feet."

I looked over to find a new Root operative—older than me, dark haired, masked—stepping inside. I staggered up and did my best to settle into a defensive stance. "You brought another person here to use me as a punching bag?"

"Win a fight," Danzo said, exiting through the doorway. "And then you can eat. Begin."

I hit the ground.

8,517.

"You didn't finish your food."

I gave a raspy breath and coughed at the metallic taste in my mouth. "What . . . ." I took a moment to fight down burning nausea. "What did you do to me?"

The Root operative stepped forward. I couldn't really move. I couldn't look up at him. But I could see his sandals as he got closer. Then he bent down and picked up my half-finished plate. "Immunity is a valuable skill for a shinobi."

"I-immunity," I echoed, my dry lips cracking. "You . . . ." I felt bile in my throat. "You poisoned me."

"Danzo-sama wants you trained."

"What, what is it?"

His sandals scraped against the ground. I couldn't quite see them right anymore, my vision blurry. A cold hand pressed against my forehead. "As Danzo-sama expected, you're fighting it well. It's been almost an hour; you'll survive."

I'm going to die.

I won't let you.

8,375.

When I got back to my room, bruised and bloody, there was already someone else there. I stilled, eying the figure that was hunched over an under-bed box. He was sifting through Root gear, but he wasn't wearing Root gear. Instead . . . .

"Genma?" I breathed, blinking furiously as if that would help me understand what I was seeing.

He whipped around, eyes wide. "Pumpkin," he gasped. "Thank Kagutsuchi." And then he was in front of me, warm hands framing my face. "What the hell were you thinking? Of all the idiotic, reckless—" He cut himself off with a frustrated sigh, dragging me forward and trapping me against his chest in a hug. "You scared the life out of me, Mirai," he whispered.

I froze, arms held up but not touching. "Genma?" I asked again, doing my best to keep my voice from shaking. I tried to listen to his chakra, but it was just as shielded and hollow as it always was. "What are— How— What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" he echoed, pulling back. His hands pressed heavily into my shoulders. "What are you doing here? Why didn't you— Did you really think that we'd just, what, accept you disappearing on us?"

"I . . . ." I frowned. "How did you— Tenzo told on me, didn't he?"

Genma gave a smile, but I couldn't tell if it was tired or sad. "Give Kakashi and me some credit. We figured out plenty on our own. And we tried, but— That contract of yours is iron-clad. Couldn't do a damn thing to get you out. But . . . making sure you're not alone? We could— Because that's— This was a ridiculous idea, Pumpkin. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking," I said carefully, "that I was making a deal that no one would interfere with."

"I won't interfere with it," he said slowly. "Trust me. Kakashi and I tried. I'm not here for the contract. I'm here for you." He tilted his head to the side. "Kakashi wanted to be here, but his . . . history with Danzo made the old man less than willing to make a deal with him."

"And . . . here you are," I murmured.

He nodded. "Here I am."

"Um, but—" I pressed my hands together, only to be painfully reminded of how bloody and torn they were. Wincing, I said, "But the boys—"

"Were with Raidou when I left."

"And, and Anko?"

Genma glanced to the side, shoulders giving a little. "It's . . . fine."

"Genma, no. You can't—"

"Let's get you fixed up," he interrupted, reaching out and cupping my chin. "You look half dead, Pumpkin," he said softly.

My eyes stung. I looked away, pressing my lips together. "You shouldn't be here."

"C'mere." He pulled me over to the box he'd been going through. "Sit down," he ordered. Then he started digging out the medical supplies. When he looked up and found me still standing, he frowned. "Mirai."

I slowly sat down, extending my right arm so that he could start with the cuts there. "So you're, what, just going to . . . stay here? Under Danzo?"

Genma's gaze flicked up to mine. "As long as you need me."

8,208.

I stared at the scroll he'd handed me. But instead of unrolling it, I said, "Where's Genma?"

"I've sent him to Yama no Kuni. As my shinobi, he answers to my missions."

I turned the scroll over, studying the blank grey band around it. "What is this?"

"A new type of training for you. Take a look."

I ripped the sealed edge of the band and shook it loose. I summoned a chakra light in one hand while I used the other to unroll the scroll on the ground in front of me. Throwing the red light across the paper, I frowned at the drawings at the beginning. These were . . . . "Chains?"

"An ability unheard of outside the Uzumaki. Uncommon within the clan itself. But an ability your mother was well known for."

I glanced up at him. It was easier to breathe under the weight of his KI now, but still . . . . I looked away from his stare and back to the scroll. "You want me to try to learn this."

"You will learn this," he corrected. "Read the scroll," he directed, already moving for the entryway. "And then we'll get started."

I listened as he left and his KI finally retreated. Then I unrolled the scroll the rest of the way. Are you familiar with these chains?

Kurama growled. Yes.

I paused. I forgot. She used these against you, didn't she? In her seal?

He was quiet for just a bit longer than I liked. They're strong.

Got it.

7,989.

"Pumpkin? Hey, please look at me," he begged. "Please." He gripped my shoulder. "What happened?"

I hissed in agony, trying to squirm away while also trying to avoid the pain that came with every movement. "Genma, please—"

He jerked both hands back. "I'm sorry. I didn't— What—" He dragged a hang through his hair, eyes a little glassy. "Mirai, what happened?"

"I—" Breathing was really the only thing I could do without feeling like I was going to die. I tried to give him a smile, but everything hurt too much for that. "Pretty sure . . . I destroyed my tenketsu."

"Kami." He reached for me again but kept his hand hovering over my bruised arm without touching. "What have you been doing? Normal training doesn't do that, Mirai. What has he done to you?"

"Normal training," I echoed, squeezing my eyes shut and focusing on how they burned.

"Right," he sighed. "No such thing here, is there? I'm sorry. I wish—"

"I want a hug," I choked out. "Please."

Genma pulled back. "Pumpkin," he said softly. "With your injuries and your hypersensitivity—"

"Genma-nii. Please."

His shoulders slumped. "Don't do that. Don't— I want to, Mirai. But I don't want to hurt you. So don't try to guilt me into it." He leaned his head forward against my bed's railing. "I'm sorry. When it doesn't hurt you anymore, okay?"

I tried to move, but the blanket was so warm and the only soothing thing against my damaged skin. So instead, I turned into my pillow and let out a shaky breath. "Okay."

"Mirai, look at me," he murmured. When I finally did so, he made a poor attempt at a smile. "It's gonna be okay. I'm sorry I wasn't here, but I'm going to help you through this as best as I can." He made as if to reach for my hand only to falter at the last moment. "I love you."

I tried to reach for him, but it hurt too much. So instead, I whispered, "Thank you."

7,972.

"The good news is that you have a lot of chakra, which is a basic necessity for the chains," Genma said, rubbing a thumb against the inside of my wrist as he turned both my hands palm up. "The chains are a chakra construct, which means that they rely specifically on yin chakra. Which you have in spades."

I twisted around to look up at him. "How do you know so much about chakra chains?"

"I—" Genma swallowed loudly. "I was part of the Yondaime's guard. He liked to break jutsu down to their theories. Your mom's techniques included."

"Oh." I turned back around, settling against his chest again and resting my hands heavily in his. "You've never talked about that before."

"I don't talk about a lot of things." He tapped the back of my hands, keeping his voice low in a way that made me glance nervously towards the door-less doorway, wondering if he was just as worried about someone coming through it as I was. "But hopefully . . . that means I can help. So you'll stop hurting yourself trying to get it to work."

"Okay." I took a deep breath, tilting my head back against his shoulder. "Okay. Yin chakra. How do I sort that out from yang chakra?"

Genma's hands stilled. He sighed loudly "Okay. Close your eyes."

"What—"

"Close your eyes."

I closed my eyes, straightening up. Genma's grip on my hands tightened, I listened to how carefully measured his breathing was. Something cold closed around my skin, and I choked on a hot breath.

"Hey, shh, that's just my chakra."

"What?" I forced myself to still. I listened to the icy feeling. I wasn't really sure if it was better than how hollow his chakra normally was. "Okay. Okay." I let out a long breath.

"That's my chakra complete. This is just my yang chakra."

The icy chakra shifted to something bright and heavy. I flinched, and Genma squeezed my hand. "Sorry," he murmured, drawing the ice away.

"No, no," I said, gripping his hands in return. "That's your yang chakra? It's . . . ." I hesitated, searching for the right word. "White? Weighted?"

He chuckled, but it was tired. "That's one way to describe it. Most people have more yang chakra. It naturally grows as one gets older. As they get stronger. As it's used more. Though it's not there literally, a lot of people think about it existing here." He shook one of his hands from mine and then pressed it to my stomach. "It's easy to access. Most of the time when people use their chakra, it's mixed. But it's almost always yang-heavy unless they arrange it otherwise." He twisted his hand and his palm lit up with a chakra light. Bright blue. The blue-est chakra I'd ever seen. "That is pure yang chakra. This is it mixed." The blue chakra shifted darker, just slightly muddled. More like what I was used to.

"And yin chakra?"

Genma gave a soft exhale that I knew meant he was smiling. The light shut off, and he brought his hand up to press lightly against my temple. His palm was still warm. "People usually think about it as coming from up here. Yang is physical. So yin is . . . ."

"Mental," I breathed.

"Right. Yang chakra is used for most ninjutsu. Yin chakra tends to stay more on the side of genjutsu, since the tangible production of it can be pretty exhausting." He pulled his hand down again, palm up. The light returned. But now it was smaller, a sickly and pale red. It flickered off after a couple seconds. "Not really my forte."

I turned my hand up. My light came on strong. A sharper red than his. "Mine always looks like this," I mumbled, thinking about the Void that I'd come from.

"And Naruto's is always blue."

I straightened at that, sucking in a breath. "Oh. Naruto has—"

"The yang half, right? And you have the yin. At least, that's why Kakashi and I've always thought you chakra looks like this." He brought his hand up to cup mine. "Yours is red, but it's not pure yin yet. If you get that figured out, then you can go forward with the chains." He paused and cleared his throat. "At least, if I understand what Minato-sama said correctly."

I closed my hand. "Can I feel it? Your yin chakra? I don't know how it feels different from yang."

"I'll do my best. I— Like I said, yin chakra isn't my strong suit. Close your eyes again." He gripped my hand tightly and I felt that icy chakra return. It shifted, itching across my skin. It was sharp. Dark. But it only lasted for a half-second. "Sorry."

"No, it's—" I kept my eyes closed. "I can work with that." I focused on pooling my chakra up in my chest. Hot. My chakra was always so hot. "Genma-nii?"

I felt a kiss against the top of my head. "Yeah, Pumpkin?"

"Can you tell me about what Minato was like?"

There was a moment of silence. Then a weight settled against the spot that he'd just kissed. "Yeah," he murmured. "I can."

7,913.

My arms weren't just bruised. They were bloody. Torn. Shaking. There was white that I was seeing, and it couldn't be anything but bone. And still, no chains.

"Talk about tough luck. Not to be comparative, but, well . . . . It never took me this long to finish an assignment."

I looked up at Danzo. "I'm not you," I growled.

He chuckled and crouched down, hands on his knees. He tilted his head to the side. "Funny to hear you say that."

"Why's that?" I spat. Then I faltered. He wasn't wearing his bandages. "Wait . . . ."

"Is this really how you see me?" He reached up and tugged on his collar. "Pretty sure I should be offended. Get rid of this face for me."

I frowned. "Get rid—" I blinked, and then he wasn't Danzo anymore. "Who . . . . I know you."

Sophie smiled. It wasn't nice. "Yeah. I would say so." She reached out and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at her. "Do I look like Danzo to you?" She brought her free hand to my split wrist, squeezing it tighter and tighter until I gasped. "Think about it. Out of the two of us, which one is more like him?"

I closed my eyes, but that really did nothing for the pain. "I'm not—"

Sophie shook me. "Look at me!" She pressed into my arm until I whimpered, eyes opening. "Do I look like Danzo to you?"

"I'm not—"

"Don't do this to her."

Sophie scowled. "I'm—"

"No."

I slammed back into my body, gasping into consciousness. My arms were cold. The ceiling was blank. And I was alone.

7,873.

"Have you used these before?" I asked, turning the cool wood over in my hands.

"They're called yawara," Genma said, taking them from me. "I've seen them. Truthfully, Gai would be the one to ask about them, not me." He centered it in my palm and closed my hand around it so that the knobbed ends jutted out just past my fist. Then he did the same with the other one in my other hand. "I've seen him use them in his taijutsu."

I turned my fists, studying the weapons. "Blunt force."

He shrugged. "To vulnerable spots. Joints. Temples. Nose."

"Throat."

Genma paused, eyebrows raised. "You know, there are places to aim for other than the throat."

"It's worked for me so far."

He faltered, hands dropping from mine. Genma cleared his throat. "Where you shown anything when you used these?"

"Yamanaka demonstrated them," I said hoarsely. "Apparently the person had messed up on a mission." I looked up at him, clearing my throat. "Danzo said actions have consequences. And then had Yamanaka use these on the man until he was bloody and unconscious. And then he wasn't unconscious anymore. He was just dead."

"Kami," Genma breathed. "Pumpkin—"

"Uzumaki."

I looked up at the person standing in the doorway, dropping my fists to my sides. "Yamanaka."

I couldn't read his expression behind his mask. Probably wouldn't have mattered. His face seemed to always be either blank or threatening. No in between. He pointed towards the boxes under the beds. "Full uniform. Then report to the training hall."

7,872.

The sun was so bright that my eyes burned. I squinted, bringing my hand up to my mask to shield my eyes. In doing so, I blocked my vision badly enough that I stumbled.

"Up," Yamanaka ordered. "We're going to use the trees. Going north first."

"North to where?" I asked. Then I rushed to follow as he jumped up into the tree branches. It was a scramble to keep up as he went full speed from branch to branch. "What are we doing?"

"Quiet."

I snapped my mouth shut. My back still ached from my various lessons about just how much stronger he was than me. If I wanted to survive this, it would probably be in my best interest not to speak unless spoken to.

7,849.

"You'll need to hold it longterm."

"How longterm?"

He stilled, clothes held out to me. His face was dark.

"Sorry," I murmured, taking the clothes from him.

"Your name is Izumi Chie. Your parents were Izumi Masao and Ema." He set two photos in front of me, a man and a woman. "They died, and I'm taking you to your closest living relative: Unmo Samidare." Another photo. This man was wearing a Kirigakure hitai-ate. "He's our target. We need him dead. In and out. Not difficult."

I nodded, leaning forward to study the photos of Masao and Ema. They both had dark hair, low cheekbones. He had a dimpled chin while she had a sharp one. Green eyes and brown eyes. After a moment of study, I took a deep breath and brought my hands up for the signs. I activated a henge. Dark hair, low cheekbones, dimpled chin, green eyes. And Samidare's hooked nose for good measure. Then I looked up at Yamanaka, tugging out my braids and instead moving to twist my hair into ponytail on one side. "How's this?"

He looked blank. "You're from Spring Village in Yu no Kuni. You're nine, no siblings, and your parents had been married for eleven years." He paused. "You like flowers."

"I can manage that." I started changing into the dress—blue with thin straps and buttons all the way down the front—and brown strapped sandals. "The real Chie?"

"Doesn't exist. But Samidare hasn't been in contact with his sister since she left a decade ago, pregnant. He never heard about the miscarriage." He reached out and tapped the picture of Samidare. "I deliver you to him. You kill him. Extraction, and then back to Konoha to report in. Simple."

"Simple," I echoed.

"Ogawa Shingo," he said, hand on his on chest. A moment later, he activated his own henge—black hair, black eyes, weathered skin—and withdrew a scroll. "Your parents died in a home invasion. You were asleep in bed at the time and woke to the dead bodies. Simple, to the point, doesn't need exposition. These are your things." He unsealed a purple backpack from the scroll and set it on the table, zipping it open.

I leaned forward, peering inside. Then I reached in and started sifting through its contents. Clothes, a worn babydoll, a couple bags of snacks, and a framed picture of Masao and Ema together. "Got it." I glanced back towards the picture of Unmo. "And Samidare? How do you want him dead?"

Yamanaka fixed me with a sharp look. "This is your test. Figure it out."

"Okay." I bit my lip. "Tell me about him."

7,813.

"Careful, Chie," Yamanaka said, helping me as I faked staggering from the gangplank. "Can't have you taking a dip now!"

I stumbled into him, clutching his hand. "Sorry," I mumbled.

"Don't worry about it. It'll just take a moment for you to get landlegs back, okay? Oh! This way!" He turned me towards a small booth set between two large pillars, only really half-visible through the mist. As we approached, he motioned towards the bench. "Sit there for a second, Chie-chan. I'll get us in." Then he turned to the booth with a smile, already bringing his messenger bag around to retrieve his folders.

I sat down on the bench, drawing my knees up to my chest with my arms around them. I kept half an ear on Yamanaka—he was going through files with the gateperson, signing papers and showing ID—while using the rest of my attention for Kirigakure itself.

I was in a foreign shinobi village.

And if my henge faltered, I would then be in a foreign shinobi village as a recognized enemy.

Gulping, I tucked my head down to my knees. The mist was cool on my skin, and I focused on that. It fit my story, anyway. Traumatized little girl, dragged from the only home she'd ever known to an entirely new country. I turned my head a little, staring at my bare arm where my seals were hidden by my henge. They might be hidden, but they existed. And that still meant, at least, that I had access to my weapons, if absolutely necessary. Though . . . Genma had proved that I still needed to practice how my chakra hidden there.

I spent the next hour—hours? afternoon? it was hard to tell—mulling over my various options. Then I felt a hand on my head. I looked up, sucking in a breath and wiping at my eyes. They were misty with exhaustion, but it worked the other way too. "Shingo?" I mumbled.

He smiled. "Chie-chan, I have someone for you to meet."

I lowered my legs, looking past him at the man standing there. No headband, set scowl, and arms crossed. I looked at Yamanaka and then at the man again. "Ojisan?" I asked carefully.

The man huffed, looking me over. "I'm not taking in an Izumi," he said, lips twisting.

Yamanaka hesitated. "Okay. Unmo, then?" He started digging in his bag again. Nodding to the booth, he said, "We have a witness. Then I can file the name change with the rest of the papers." He pulled out another folder and opened it. "It's not as many pages as the others."

Samidare eyed the stack and then looked at me. "Fine. I'll take in an Unmo." He reached out and snatched the papers from Yamanaka. He took up a pen. "How old are you again?" he asked, not looking up from the page.

I waited a moment before reacting, as if just realizing that he was talking to me. I straightened. "Nine."

"Great," he muttered. "Been in the Academy?"

I stared at him. "Um, Kaachan takes me to shougakkou. Or—" I faltered. "Um."

"Really?" He frowned. "No Academy? Where the fuck am I supposed to stick you then, huh?"

"Kiri has a good shougakkou, doesn't it?" Yamanaka asked. "Oh, sign here," he said, pointing at a spot on the page Samidare was moving past.

Samidare gave a grumble at that, scribbling something out and then turning to the next page. I took that moment to hunch over again, staring at my hands in my lap. Finally, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up to find Yamanaka crouched in front of me, smiling softly. "Alright, Chie-chan," he said gently. "It's time for me to go. Unmo-san is going to take you home. Okay?"

I glanced at Samidare and then back to Yamanaka. "Okay," I whispered. As he pulled back, I hopped down and picked up my bag. I looked up at Samidare. "Kaachan didn't talk about you."

He huffed, eying me. "No, she wouldn't have. This way." He turned on his heel and started off.

I realized in alarm that he wasn't exactly slowing down for me. I scrambled after him, fumbling to pull on my backpack. He was already through the pillars and well down the street by the time I finally found my footing. By the time I passed through the pillars, he was already turning a corner. I could catch up with him. Easily. But Chie wouldn't be able to.

And within a few more streets, I'd lost him completely. I curled my hands around the straps on my backpack, looking one way and then the other. It was easy to start the tears. After all, it'd been over nine hundred and forty-seven hours since I'd felt Shisui's chakra.

I stumbled back into the wall of a building—a store, maybe? or a house?—and sank down against it. With a shaky breath, I drew my knees back up to my chest and tucked my head down. There were a few options. Someone would notice me and help me find Samidare. Or take me to someone who could find him for me. Or—

"Shit, kid, what are you even good for?" A hand grabbed my wrist and dragged me up to my feet.

I stumbled, looking up to find Samidare was the one gripping me tightly. "Sorry," I sniffled. "Didn't mean to."

He grunted. And then the world bent with a shunshin. When we came to a stop, I had to remind myself to fall. Samidare kept me up, hoisting my arm. He dragged me into the house. "Alright," he said, finally releasing me. "Listen, I already had dinner."

I stared up at him. Then I dropped my gaze. "I'm not hungry," I mumbled.

"Good. I wasn't exactly warned about you, so." He moved forward and threw a hand out dramatically towards the living room. "Enjoy the couch."

7,807.

Samidare was a shinobi. Samidare was a shinobi. I had to keep reminding myself of that as I stared at the ceiling. Samidare was a shinobi.

And I had to kill him. Without setting all of Kirigakure at my throat.

Thoughts?

I want blood.

Don't we all. With a sigh, I sat up. Chances of us easily burning through a sedative?

He was quiet for a moment. Then he growled. There's less blood from him this way.

There's less blood from me this way too. I reached over my arm where I knew the second storage seal was. Choke the chakra. Keep it quiet.

I pulled on my two tagged items and a bottle and syringe dropped into my hand. I immediately tucked them under my blanket and laid back down. Just in case, just in case, just in case, just in case—

Nothing.

Carefully, warily, I crept out from under the blanket. Bare feet against the floor, I padded into the kitchen. There were no drinks in the cupboard, but I found seven bottles of sake and a jug of milk in the fridge. I measured out the first dose of the sedative and then sank the needle in through the cork on the sake bottle.

By the time I finished injecting the sedative into the bottles and the jug, my heart was pounding so harshly that I was pretty sure my ribs were permanently bruised. I stepped back to the couch. The thought of Samidare hearing my chakra kept me from sealing my things back away. Instead. I shoved them down between the cushion and the back of the couch. Then I took a deep breath and turned.

Time for the tears again.

Sniffling, I shuffled to Samidare's door and carefully twisted the doorknob. As I pushed the door open, I asked in a choked off voice, "Ojisan?"

There was no immediate response. Then a grunt and the figure on the bed moved. "What?" a heavy voice asked. "What the— What do you want?"

I shifted on my feet, looking down. "I can't sleep."

He turned over, squinting at me. "So?"

"Kaachan gives me tea."

He huffed, sitting up. "I'm not going to make you tea."

"Cherry juice?"

"What the fuck?" he asked, dragging a hand down his face. "What was Ema feeding you?"

I fiddled with my hands. "Milk?"

Samidare sighed. "Yeah, okay, whatever. I have milk." He shoved himself up and lumbered over to the door. "C'mon." He turned me around and pushed me ahead of him. "You're ten. Eight? Nine. You can operate a fridge yourself." He moved to the fridge and opened it. He pulled out the jug of milk and slammed it on the table. Then he got a cup from the cabinet and set it harshly down too. "There. Problem solved. Kami, what time is it?" He looked at the clock. "Shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?" He turned back to the fridge and picked out a sake bottle.

I dropped my gaze from him and busied myself in slightly exaggerating my difficulty in pouring my glass of milk. Alcoholic. Yamanaka was right.

I want blood.

I know. I slipped with the jug, knocking the glass over. It tipped over the side of the table and to the ground, breaking. Milk spilled out, dripping over the edge.

Samidare just swore loudly and dropped into a chair, tilting back to drain half the sake in one go. "Well?" He waved at the floor. "Anytime now." He gulped down the rest of the alcohol.

"Sorry." I scrambled for the hand towel on the counter. "Sorry, sorry, sorry." I took far too much time in sopping up the milk. And doing a poor job of it. I counted the seconds, the minutes. Then there was another crash. I looked up.

Samidare was slumped in his chair, head tilted back and bottle shattered on the floor. I took a deep breath, dropping the towel. I sifted carefully through the broken glass. None of the shattered pieces were big enough. So instead, I went for the counter. He had plenty of options in his knife block.

7,805.

The water was cold, and I was wondering why Kiri didn't have any walls. How were they supposed to be able to prevent this, prevent shinobi, prevent me?

Something grabbed me and hauled me upwards. I continued to hold my breath, even as I was dragged into the air. Kiri? Was I caught? Was it—

I was thrown down. Hacking, I rolled on to my side.

"Samidare?"

I heaved for a moment. Then I looked up at the figure standing over me. Was he swaying, or was I? "Dead," I gasped out.

Yamanaka regarded me for a second. Then he dropped a bag next to me. "Uniform. You need to be wearing it when we report in."

7,759.

There was blood on the ground.

"Well done."

I stared at the blood that was staining the concrete, hands tense at my sides. "Thank you," I murmured.

"Room for improvement," Danzo continued. "Yamanaka said he had to cover you. Multiple times. But not . . . terrible." He sighed and tapped his cane once. "Very well. You may go."

Immediately, I turned on my heel and moved for the hallway. "Please," I mumbled. "Please, please, please—"

Shut up.

I snapped my mouth shut, sliding to a stop in the doorway. There was a figure slumbering in Genma's bed. I released a shaky breath and stumbled forward. "Genma." I stopped at the edge of the bed. "Genma."

He stirred. Genma opened his eyes and squinted up at me. "Pumpkin?" And then his eyes widened. He sat up, hunched to avoid hitting his head on the underside of my own bed. "Mirai!"

"Genma."

He reached for me, and I gave easily into his arms. Genma dragged me up to his chest. "I missed you," he murmured, tucking his head down against mine. "You were gone too long."

"Sorry."

"No, don't—" He sighed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm . . . ." I pressed my lips together and squeezed my eyes shut. "I'm . . . something."

7,718.

"Focus."

"I am focusing." Eyes still closed, I said, "Yin chakra is sharp. That's what I'm focusing on."

"Sharp?" he asked, sounding curious.

"I thought I was supposed to be focusing."

"Sorry. You can do this."

"I know." I took one long, deep breath and drew out my chakra. Feeling it. Sorting it. Separating it. I dragged the dark chakra to my palm. Then I heard an sharp intake of breath. Hesitant, I opened my eyes. My palm was illuminated in sharp, bloody crimson. Darker than my chakra had ever been before. More red thank my chakra had ever been before. I exhaled a shaky breath, unable to hold back a smile. Not because I was happy. Because I was relieved. "I did it."

Genma let out a breath, eyes closing. "You did it." Then he looked at me again and smiled, gaze dropping to my palm. "And it's still there. Strong yin chakra."

I closed my hand, putting out the light. "I still don't know how to do the chains."

"But you did this," he reminded me.

I stared at my hands. "Yeah. Eventually."

7,602.

"You managed it. You got wet leaves."

"That's not—" I stopped pacing to turn a glare to him. "That is not the point. I spent weeks letting him drown me for the sake of learning what suiton should feel like on a leaf. I finally figure it out and my reward is rocks? I can't— What am I supposed to do with those?" I asked, throat raw. "I know was rocks feel like. I've had Tonbo throw enough of them at me."

Kurama gave a rumble, lowering himself and watching me through half-closed eyes. "I'm enjoying the anger but not the rant."

"I, I, I just want a break." I reached up and dragged a hand down my face. "Please."

He was quiet for a moment. "Come."

I looked up to find him still watching me. Sucking in a breath, I stepped through the bars and dropped down. "Thank you," I whispered, resting against him. "I know that you're more or less just stuck with me, but . . . I'm glad that you're here with me." I closed my eyes, sighing. "So thank you."

"Just go to sleep."

7, 411.

"This one is simple," Genma murmured.

I glanced at him. I liked his ANBU mask way more than I liked this one on him, and I had to look away. "Simple. In an out." Deep breath. "In the safe?"

"Should be." He hesitated, reaching for me. He grasped my shoulder. "Look at me. You need to be careful. No one should know that you were there at all. If they do—"

"I already got the speech from Danzo."

"Danzo—" Genma sighed. "He wants the information. And he wants it quietly. Quickly. He doesn't care about you. I want you to be safe."

"I know." I felt for the kunai pouch on my waist where I'd stored away the things I might need, not wanting to risk using chakra to unseal anything while I was inside. "And I want," —I nodded to the manor we could barely see through the trees— "his safe." I worked through some seals and shivered as the itch started over my skin. "Well? Can you see me?"

"No." I could hear the smile in his voice. Genma finally released me, pulling back. "Alright. I'll be here, okay? Be safe."

"I'll try." One more breath to still myself. And then I moved. Quietly, just slow enough to make sure I wasn't going to make noise.

It was dark, and the house was quiet. I could hear chakra inside. Some small—the kuge, his wife, his daughter—and some muffled. At least four shinobi guards, then. Two awake. One near the front door. Another patrolling within the walls, drawing a pattern from east to west. The office was upstairs, south end of the house. I circled that way. The office didn't have a window, but the room next to it did.

These shinobi were not Genma. To be fair, any shinobi that the kuge would have managed to hire long term as bodyguards wouldn't be connected to a Village any longer, and any missing-nin skilled enough to put up security on par with Genma's weren't going to pass their days earning pocket money for guarding a rich man.

That is to say, I got in without too much trouble. I took a step forward only to falter. I turned and closed the window behind me and brought the security back up. I took to the ceiling, bracing myself between the beams and moving from square to square. I stilled when I felt the patrolling chakra near. The itch from my toton worsened as I felt the chakra just through the door.

And then it went past.

I breathed slowly and counted the seconds. Once I'd reached twenty, and the chakra was far away, I inched open the door and crawled over—under?—the doorframe. I reached the office door and—

It's locked.

Break it down.

I had to work to keep my scoff inside. Not exactly a good recommendation for a stealth mission. I briefly considered using chakra to stick do the ceiling while unlocking the door, but I didn't want to risk the patrolling guard feeling it. So instead I dropped to the floor softly and dug out my lockpicks. It was a wafer lock. A little more difficult than the pin tumbler locks I'd been practicing on, but not impossible. Even if it did take longer than I liked. I slipped in and closed the door, turning the lock on the knob for good measure.

Back to the wall, I took a moment to study the room. Desk, shelves, paintings, sculptures, carpet, cabinets. His safe was in here. Somewhere.

I checked the paintings first. The cabinets. Behind the sculptures. In the desk. Behind the books on the shelves. Then I turned, staring at the rug. It was blue. And it was just off from being parallel to anything else in the room. I knelt door, reaching for the edge of the rug, when I felt the chakra coming back. With a swear to Kurama in my head, I scrambled under the desk and held myself still, pulling in a breath and holding it. I started counting. By thirty-six, the chakra was past again.

I stepped out and bent down, folding over the rug. I ran my hands over the floor, pressing carefully. When something shifted just barely, I grinned and slipped out one of my lockpicks again. I used it to wedge between the floorboards and then as a lever. I carefully set the board aside. There it is. I reached down and touched the lock, testing it. Tumblers. Like the entry to Training Ground 37. But for that I'd used . . . .

After taking one long, slow breath, I felt focused enough. I did my best to keep it muffled, keep it hidden. I pressed my hand firmly against the safe door and pushed gently with my chakra until I felt the tumblers. Then I pulled and moved them. Up. Down. Up again. The lock clicked. I opened the door slowly.

I dug past some of the contents—jewelry, money, legal documents—before I found the scroll I was looking for. Black banded on one end. Blue on the other. One stripe of white connecting them. I had what Danzo wanted.

And now all I had to do was retrace my steps to get back to Genma.

7,100.

Yawara hurt. I had learned that well. I had taught it well, too. I was on my knees, hunched over myself as I listened to my opponent struggle to cough. Genma was right in saying that there were other targets than the throat. But I was right in saying that it had worked for me so far.

"Well done."

Something metal clattered on the floor in front of me. I jerked in surprise, scrambling backwards. My yawara went skittering across the floor. I stared at what Danzo had thrown. "What's this?" I mumbled.

"Manriki," Danzo said. He tapped his cane once. "Pick it up."

"What is it?" I asked, rising on my knees and hesitating over the chain.

"Pick it up. You'll figure it out."

6,645.

"Happy birthday."

Those two words twisted my chest. "It's not my birthday."

"I—" Genma faltered. "I know it's probably not the day . . . specifically. But somewhere around this time, right?"

I resisted the urge to turn my wrist and look at the numbers there. That wouldn't help me. "Yeah. Probably." I managed a smile for him. "Well? Did you get me anything?"

He chuckled. "I wish. This place isn't filled with . . . ample opportunities for gift shopping." Then he shrugged. "If I could, I would have gotten you a book."

"A book?"

He smiled. "A book. They're good for making someone stop. Slow down. Breathe."

I looked down, nodding. "That sounds nice," I murmured. "I wouldn't mind a book."

6,059.

No one had warned me that the sharpness of yin chakra would make a chain feel like I was splitting my skin open. I screamed, dropping to one knee. Then I bit my lip to stop myself. The chain was short—only a few links—and fuzzy—could they be defined as links?—and not as red as it needed to be, but it was a chain. My next breath brought tears. "I, I did it," I rasped. My hand started shaking, and the chain dissipated. But I knew what I'd seen. "I did it. I actually—"

"You did. It wasn't much of a chain."

I stared at his feet as he came to a spot in front of me. I had to use both hands to keep myself braced against the ground. "I managed something. That doesn't warrant a, a— I don't know. Acknowledgment? Anything?"

Danzo made a contemplative sound. Then he turned, moving away. "It does merit a reward, I suppose. You can go. Rest. We're done for the day."

I hesitated, testing my hand by opening and closing it a couple times. My palm still ached, my wrist still stung, my hand still shook. I got to shaky feet and didn't look at Danzo as I stumbled to my room. The world was lilting to one side and I was listing to the other. I hit the wall before I reached the room, clocking my shoulder and faltering to a stop. I rested my head against the cold concrete wall. Surely I could take just a moment. Just a second.

"Mirai?" An arm wrapped around me. "What happened? Are you okay? Hold on, Pumpkin. I've got you."

I came back a bit when I felt the ground leave. I clutched at the arm around me, sucking in a gasp.

"Hey, it's okay. Just me. Just me."

I watched the world move until it wasn't anymore. Genma sank to the floor, leaning against the bed and resting me up against his chest. "Are you okay?" he asked, feeling my forehead. His hands were cold.

"I'm okay," I promised hoarsely. "I am."

"What happened? You look—" He cut himself off, shaking his head.

I reached up and gripped his hand as he pulled it away. "Genma-nii? Can I feel your chakra again?" When his brow furrowed, I immediately rushed to explain. "It's something Shisui used to do for me. It, it, it helped me focus. Kept me from . . . ." I chewed on my lip, trying to think of the word.

Spiraling.

"Spiraling!"

Genma looked taken aback. Then his expression softened a bit. "You know," he murmured. "You don't need to call me Genma-nii every time you want something." He shifted, wrapping his arms around me.

I shivered as I felt myself settle into icy water. "I know," I murmured, letting my eyes close as I rested back against him.

"Shisui used to do this for you?"

"Sometimes," I said softly. "Naruto asked what he was doing, once. Probably wanted to do it himself. Doubt he has the control yet."

Genma hummed at that. "Probably not. He's probably been busy dragging Sasuke into every bit of trouble he can."

I gave one laugh, smiling. "Yeah. Probably."

"He misses you, though. I don't need to say probably about that. And Sasuke's no you. Not sure he can exactly give the comfort Naruto needs." He rested his head down on mine. "I bet he's gone back to sleeping with Pig. Just for that safety. That familiarity."

A heartbeat. Then my heart clenched. I forced myself to keep breathing, to keep it even. "Pig?"

"Yeah. That toy of his. He still has that, right?"

"Well, yeah," I breathed, suddenly not tired anymore. "I don't throw our things out. He just hasn't needed a stuffed animal for . . . at least a year. Maybe two."

"Ah." Genma gave a yawn. "Sorry. That mission exhausted me."

"It's okay. We should get some sleep."

At that, Genma helped me up and got to his feet. "Good idea. Get some good rest, Pumpkin. You need it." He paused. Then he gave me a smile. The same one I'd seen from Genma a dozen times before. It was his it's okay smile. He used it when things were okay. And when they weren't. "Naruto's okay. He's got to be, right? Because when you're out of here, he's going to be waiting for you. Then he'll be able to put down Pig again." He shrugged. "If he picked it up again in the first place. Right?"

I smiled. "Right." I didn't say anything more than that, because I wasn't quite sure who I was talking to.

But he was not Genma.